


Valhalla on Her Knees

by honestlykorrathough (honestlygirlsthough)



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Face-Fucking, Female Eivor (Assassin's Creed), Fingerfucking, I mean i'm into it, I'm Bad At Tagging, Light Angst, Roughness, also god I feel so out of practice with smut, lmao ok, oh well, so ya'll just gunna affair where everyone can see, this also masquerades as a fix it fic for them having sex in the MIDDLE OF THE LONGHOUSE, this might be a little cheesy but...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:35:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27931618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honestlygirlsthough/pseuds/honestlykorrathough
Summary: “Randvi, it is a celebration. Come.”Randvi’s exhaustion slumped head lifted at the gruff and alluring voice of Ravensthorpe’s most honorable drengr. The way in which Eivor’s voice curled like gilded barb wire around the last word made Randvi’s breath halt and her heartbeat flutter.Come.
Relationships: Eivor/Randvi (Assassin's Creed)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 272





	Valhalla on Her Knees

**Author's Note:**

> Take a shot every time I use the word "drengr" and have yourself a merry time.

The trill of flutes and pounding of drums carried across all of Ravensthorpe. The sun had just fallen beyond the horizon, blanketing the English lands in darkness and chill. The Raven Clan gave no regard to such things and instead continued their dancing, drinking, brawling, and plowing with zealous merriment. 

Eivor had called for the feast earlier that evening. She rang the bell with a pleased smirk, still stained with blood and triumph, eager to boast her news. She had returned home with yet another promise ring from a great leader of England. _The Scourge of Mercia_ , the Saxons had taken to calling her now. It was with her help that her Clan were making themselves well-known, well-feared, and well-rewarded through all the lands. Soon, they'd be in a position to improve their home once more. 

It was moments like these, as Eivor watched over her merry friends, that she felt true pride. Everything she did was for them. She laughed as Alvis and Holger battled with their poetic words, the mead in their bodies not doing much to help either of their performances. Beyond them, outside the longhouse, she saw Dag and a few of her raiders throwing each other around, breaking bushes and noses as they competed for the ultimate glory: who was to be Eivor’s lieutenant. She cackled as she neared them, taunting Dag only to watch him slip and catch a shield-maiden’s elbow in his jaw. She booed him, stepping over his defeated and crumpled form, sure she’d hear some pressed words from him in the morning. She did not care. It was their way as raiders to tease one another and if Dag wanted to be rid of the teasing he would need to improve himself instead of whining like a sopped mutt.

Eivor’s eye caught Hytham and Yanli making conversation by one of the many fire pits back inside. They looked to be sharing a rack of roasted boar as well as shy, coy glances. _Interesting_ , she smirked to herself. Yanli, mead inspired, was being rather handsy with the Hidden One. Her touching summoned an admittedly cute blush upon his face. Eivor was very tempted to plop down in the middle of them and wrap her arms around their shoulders to have some fun at their expense, but she caught sight of a more indulgent and exciting opportunity. From the opposite end of the longhouse, Eivor could see Randvi, spymaster and tactician extraordinaire of the Raven Clan, perched at her alliance table in her dimly lit office. Unlike the rest of their festive clan, Randvi’s posture had not been waxed by drink, nor was she pawing food into her face or conversing. She was secluded all by herself in that room. _That will not do_. Eivor downed the last of her ale and slammed the wooden tankard on the closest table as she stalked towards her prey with vigor.

Randvi took no notice of Eivor's arrival or perhaps willingly resisted acknowledgment, as she so often did to tease. So, Eivor settled her body against the threshold, the wood of which creaked as her heavy body fell against it. She crossed her arms expectantly and let her hungry gaze roam over Randvi’s body unabashed--she wanted to make Randvi’s skin squirm and burn as brightly as her hair. When Randvi still ignored her, she spoke. “Randvi, it is a celebration. Come.” 

Randvi’s exhaustion slumped head lifted at the gruff and alluring voice of Ravensthorpe’s most honorable drengr. The way in which Eivor’s voice curled like gilded barb wire around the last word made Randvi’s breath halt and her heartbeat flutter. _Come_. She shook her head, turning towards the plain Alliance map hoping it would serve Eivor distaste. She was not in the mood for celebrating tonight. Eivor had given their clan another booming victory, this much was true, but all the while her idiot Jarl husband sat on his lofty ass in some mighty city, sharing too much drink and too much coin with men of no intentions to keep promises made. Her disregard for Eivor’s presence was utterly foolish, she quickly realized, as the warrior stalked towards her slowly and silently, prowling. Randvi swallowed deeply as Eivor’s strong body pressed against hers from behind, trapping her against the oak table. 

“Did you not hear me?”

Randvi shuttered and was hardly quick enough to suppress a gasp as Eivor's warm voice tickled her ear and her strong, calloused hands squeezed at the flesh of her hips. Randvi seized Eivor’s forearms, laughing as she did so, and tried to stop them from moving upwards. She was no match for the drengr’s strength or thirst and her hands moved as if they hadn't been captured at all, groping Randvi’s full breasts roughly, but not unpleasantly. Randvi could not stop a moan from bubbling out of her throat.

Eivor chuckled darkly into Randvi’s ear, sounding like Sýnin, “You cannot ignore me now, hmm?” 

“Gods, Eivor. Stop.” Randvi turned in Eivor’s embrace to face her and then shove her away with an amused laugh. “You are entirely too ale addled.” 

Eivor raised her brows, humorously taken aback by the denial. “What? Are you worried the ale has dampened my touch?” To prove her point of coherence, Eivor quickly descended upon Randvi again, swatting away her semi-defensive hands and pressing her lips against the side of Randvi's neck which was bare of crimson waves. _Not if I can help it_ , Eivor thought, nipping and sucking harshly at the flesh there. She moaned into her ministrations and she felt Randvi's breath halt and her hips instinctively buck against her pelvis to seek pleasure. 

“No,” Randvi moaned against Eivor’s lips, not strong enough to pull away from the heat of them entirely, “I am more concerned it has dampened your senses.” After a few more inciting kisses she finally managed to pull her lips away from Eivor’s fangs, tilting her head in the direction of the walkway. Beyond it, the Clan was strewn about the longhouse and beyond celebrating hardily. Thankfully, it seemed none of them had noticed the women positioned scandalously against the table. _Yet_ , Randvi clenched her jaw, absorbed by the embarrassing thought until a dark, but sexy laugh from Eivor chased away her worry.

“You usually do not have a problem making love in your little office.” Eivor knew this was not the point of the issue, but she was in a playful mood and wanted to tease Randvi in every way. To make her senses and her strong conviction weak for one night. She wanted to ease her worries. Eivor knew she was making good progress when still pressed tightly around her hips, Randvi scowled. 

“That is not the point. I will not put on a show.” Before she could think better of it, captured by frustration and embarrassment, Randvi added, “Especially considering that I am still married to your shit stain of a brother.” The words came out more forcefully than she liked, more betrayed. She was grateful Eivor did not have the same temper as her shit stain brother. Instead of leaving or lashing out in return, Eivor’s playful grin was overshadowed by a concerned line of lips. Randvi nearly wept from relief when Eivor’s hands released her backside and instead wrapped tightly around her lower back, bringing her in close so that their foreheads touched. In a soft voice Randvi knew from experience was saved just for her and the clan’s children, Eivor spoke.

“Then it is a good thing the shit is not here to stain anything.” 

Randvi wanted to laugh, knowing that was part of Eivor’s aim, but the panic of thoughts she had tried to suppress for a while had grown too strong. “He will return eventually.”

“He may.” Eivor breathed deeply through her nose, sensing where this trading of words was leading.

“And when he does, he will need his wife. A Jarl needs a wife. This will…” Randvi gripped the Raven Clan tunic Eivor wore proudly, smelling the trees, battled steel, and alcohol on it. “This will end.”

“It does not have to.” Eivor spoke with confidence, but not force. “You are your own woman, Randvi. You may do as you wish. You are no longer beholden to my brother for alliance's sake. Divorce him--you have the grounds and the wish, I know it.”

Randvi lowered her eyes, staring at the ground where Eivor’s large boots circled her smaller ones. It was rather representative of how she felt with the woman: protected, warmed, wanted. “They will judge me. Judge me for divorcing their Jarl for his sister.” She said weakly, glancing again at the crowd.

“They may.” Eivor nodded, playing Hel’s advocate for a moment, “That does not mean you should suffer still, Randvi. After all, it is better to--”

“--fight and fall than to live without hope.” Randvi finished Eivor’s words with a bright smile. The drengr loved that phrase and offered it as advice to anyone, at anytime, for anything. It was her life’s motto, one she had to cling to desperately for far too long before feeling welcome and safe. “You are right, Eivor.” Randvi released her fearful grip of Eivor's forearms and slowly ran them upward, along muscled flesh, to caress Eivor’s neck. 

“Then let us stop talking about shit.” Eivor chuckled, never missing an opportunity to badger her brother. “Take me to your bed, Randvi.” 

Randvi looked into Eivor’s eyes warry, but excited. They had never made love in any bed. Their bodies had only known the alliance table and the cold stone and hollow ground of England’s many obscure locations. This was a very welcome proposal on such a stressful night for Randvi. Her lower stomach immediately began to simmer with desire. She gave Eivor a brief, but hungry open-mouthed kiss as she removed the warrior’s hands from her lower back and led them into the bedroom. It was technically still part of the alliance room, but it had a modest wooden wall to divide them. Her bed was low to the ground and its assortment of furs, warmed by the nearby fire pit, was extremely inviting. Randvi couldn't wait to have her and Eivor’s naked bodies rolling amongst them. Not wanting to waste time reaching that goal, Randvi unclipped her fox fur cape and removed her necklaces, trying to keep focused on removing the rest of her jewelry as Eivor took hold of her again.

The heavy and valuable chink of Randvi’s discarded adornments hitting the floor only fueled the lust within Eivor. The noise reminded her of raids, the sound of glory and valuables crashing all around. The thought made Eivor nip at her lover’s lips, eliciting a wistful moan. She would raid and pillage Randvi for all she was worth tonight, and not even the All-Father himself could stop her. Tired of waiting, Eivor took over Randvi’s undressing, roughly unthreading her pants and yanking them down her toned legs, and shoving her onto the bed. She let Randvi recover and stare as Eivor herself undressed, throwing her own cloak and tunic to the floor with no care, not even for her axe. She left her pants, for now, wanting some cushion for what she was about to do next. 

Once the shock and excitement of being thrown onto the bed wanned, Randvi was momentarily confused as to why Eivor undressed but did not join her. She received an answer, of a sort, as Eivor took her by the ankles and roughly pulled her to the edge of the bed until her legs dangled off. Her eyes widened as Eivor knelt on the floor so she was somewhat even with Randvi’s center. That was a shock. Usually, Eivor was as domineering and commanding in her lovemaking as she was her raiding. “Eivor, there is room enough up here-- _ah!_ ”

Eivor silenced Randvi’s objection by slowly and softly dragging her flattened tongue against the woman’s already wet and petaled lips; hot and eager to be devoured. “Hmm, I want to be on my knees for you tonight. Let me.” 

Even if she had wished to disagree, which she most certainly did not, Randvi wouldn’t have been able to voice the words anyhow. Though Eivor was just beginning, easing over her folds with slow and minimal movements of her tongue, each one stole the breath from Randvi’s lungs and sparked gleaming pleasure within her body. Randvi’s legs, splayed open and held down by Eivor’s hands, trembled and twitched with each lash of the woman’s tongue on her clit. Randvi did nothing to quiet the noises she made, not caring any longer if the others heard. Eivor’s mouth felt too good. Too unbelievably good as she sucked her clit into her mouth, quickly releasing it to tease with a few more presses of tongue. It felt as though Valhalla itself had crashed to Midgard and spread Randvi’s legs, lapping at her vigorously. Valhalla was on her knees for Randvi, coaxing her closer and closer to glory.

Eivor grinned as she slipped her tongue past Randvi’s warm entrance to greet the clenching muscle there. Randvi tasted better every time, Eivor swore it. Her taste was heavy but dearly pleasant--a taste Eivor would have coat her tongue all day if it were possible. Coupled with the taste of Randvi’s wetness in her mouth, running down her chin, Randvi’s nails digging into her skull made her own clit throb and her own entrance drip. It took a considerable amount of willpower to not squeeze her thighs together like a desperate maiden and she instead widened her legs to sink lower to the floor, wanting to be at the best angle to service Randvi as best she could. Eivor knew her tongue hit that special spot along Randvi’s inner wall before she felt it on her tongue as Randvi’s nails dug mercilessly into Eivor’s head. The sharp pain followed by warm pleasure made her groan long and deep. She loved it when Randvi was rough with her. Eager to feel more of Randvi’s nails, Eivor quickly set to thrusting her tongue in and out of her entrance. 

An obscene noise followed with every thrust, but if anything, it only made the women more untamed. Randvi’s fingers gouged the sides of Eivor’s shaved head with more fervor, only softening when she passed over the wounds left by wolves long ago. She wanted to undo Eivor’s hair and pull it instead but she could not be bothered to have the presence of mind to remove the thick golden bands guiding her hair into a long braid. This would do for now. Anything would do. Randvi felt herself being brought closer and closer to climax. Eivor’s tongue was still fucking her, but she had also moved one of the hands holding her legs open to massage her swollen clit, passing over it every time she withdrew her tongue. The purposely unsynchronized movements made Randvi’s vision swim and her mouth ached from being agape the whole time. She wanted more though, needed it. Propping herself up on one arm, the other still wrapped around Eivor’s head, Randvi thrust her hips so that she matched Eivor’s tongue, fucking herself with the drengr’s mouth. Eivor’s delighted eyes on her’s and masterful hands moved to squeeze her breasts was the last stone tossed. Randvi halted her movements, letting the gate of ultimate pleasure swing open and flood her senses before she started again, clumsily grinding against Eivor’s face and falling back down onto the bed. The orgasm rolled through her, summoning every nerve at attention, blissful heat swathing through her veins in the place of blood. Her throat felt raw, but she hadn’t heard herself scream. All she knew in that moment, all she felt and heard and saw, was Eivor.

Eivor gently laid Randvi’s spent body back onto the bed, knowing she did not have the strength to keep herself from collapsing harshly. She kept a hand pressed firmly against Randvi’s center, helping to keep her post-orgasm shocks and spasms from being too painful and too overwhelming. She took her time peppering kisses along Randvi’s legs, admiring the texture of her skin and the sound of her content breathing. Eivor was cocksure when it came to her ability to please women sexually, but she was happily delighted to see she was able to relax and calm Randvi too. The woman worked too hard and too often for her own health. 

“I can,” Randvi had to take several moments to catch her breath, “Gods, give me a moment and I can please you.” She had to lift her arms above her head to draw in more air, completely caught off guard by how powerful and full-body her orgasm had been.

“You do not have to, love,” Eivor said in a slightly sing-song voice, admiring the state her tongue had left Randvi in. She finally pushed herself off of the floor, discarded her pants and boots, and scooched Randvi’s body upward on the bed, right side up. Eivor placed a few pillows behind Randvi’s head before climbing atop her, settling between her hips.

“Hmm, but I want to,” Randvi protested, her words slurred by beckoning sleep, which Eivor noticed.

“But you are tired,” Eivor teased.

“No.”

Eivor laughed, “You are. But if you insist…” She kissed Randvi with promise, stroking her bottom lip. She expected Randvi to not mind the taste of herself on Eivor’s tongue, but she did not expect her to suck and lavish her tongue so vigorously, or as vigorously as she could when sleep was still calling her. Not breaking the kiss, Eivor spread her legs and guided one of Randvi’s hands towards her hips. She could not let Randvi play with her clit or tease her lips, she had been in an unhinged state of want all night and needed a rough and quick release now. 

Randvi gasped into Eivor’s mouth as two of her fingers were guided inside. Eivor was already excruciatingly wet and bucking and squeezing around her fingers with unprecedented need. 

Eivor groaned and cursed and grit her teeth, letting howls erupt from her throat. Being filled felt beautiful, but she needed more, she needed Randvi to use the same roughness inside her as she did with her head earlier. Eivor fisted the furs beside Randvi’s head as she ordered for more. “Harder! Fill me more.” 

Randvi did not hesitate, adding a third finger to the coiled tightness already suctioning around her fingers. She captured Eivor’s mouth again, focusing more on deepening their kiss as Eivor was intent on grinding. The drenger threw her head back, eyes closed, completely absorbed in the feeling of Randvi’s fingers thrusting inside her. She was gorgeous. Randvi loved watching and being at the mercy of Eivor taking that which she desired with no remorse. She knew her Raven, knew her Eivor, and soon started to curl her fingers with more harshness than she would ever be able to take herself. Randvi moaned, _“Yes,”_ as Eivor’s rhythm faltered and she bellowed a beautiful, cracked shout.

“Randvi, Gods. I’m…” Eivor couldn’t finish her statement. She instead used the last of her mental strength to selfishly grind against Randvi’s digging fingers, not caring if the rough movement also rubbed Randvi’s hand against her own, still sensitive folds. She grunted and kept the ruthless pace up until she came, shuttering and snarling into Randvi’s shoulder. Her fists in the furs moved to Randvi’s hair, and the moan she let out in response only furthered Eivor’s climax. She squeezed dangerously hard around Randvi’s fingers, not wanting to lose them. She continued to buck and squeeze, her movements slowing every minute. Eventually, she stilled and collapsed upon Randvi.

“Oof,” Randvi laughed, the full weight of Eivor’s spent body surprising her. She smiled as Eivor plopped one of her cheeks against her full breasts, knowing the drengr admired them so. It felt nice to be a pillow, even if the golden rings of Eivor’s braid were shockingly cold against her sensitive nipples. She hummed gently as Eivor pressed half-kisses to her chest, feeling truly relaxed for the first time in a few days. _Since the last time we did this, I suppose_. She traced the dark Speki tattoos which graced Eivor’s back and arms, loving how they nearly covered her skin entirely. She knew first hand how daunting the healing process had been, but like in the face of all things, Eivor had remained steadfast. 

“Do you feel better now?” Eivor croaked.

“Yes. I am feeling much more celebratory now.” Randvi laughed again as Eivor raised her head, eyes playfully offended. 

“Well, now is too late my love. We will celebrate here in bed.” Eivor shifted to the side, lessening her weight on Randvi, knowing it would soon grow uncomfortable. 

Randvi intertwined their legs and arms as she shifted with Eivor, turning to look at her. “I have no objection to that. Skal!” She accentuated the exclamation with a quick poke to Eivor’s nose. 

Eivor nipped at Randvi’s finger as it retreated, trying to appear outwardly offended by the gesture, but chuckling softly. “Skal!” It was a true call for celebration. Eivor had wished to fall asleep naked in a bed with Randvi from the first day they had met.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write this ever since finding...The NoteTM (ya'll know what I mean) So yeah, I hope you enjoyed it! Please, leave any thoughts or criticisms you may have in the comments, all are welcome :)
> 
> Also, Valka...honey...you're next hehe


End file.
